


Maraas-lok

by olliolli_oxenfree



Series: bullinquisitorweek [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, F/M, Gen, how did you even make it to the conclave you complete disaster, in which kendra has zero impulse control and it gets her into five kinds of shit, more the bridge, the couple that puns together stays together, the drinking scene isn't the focus of the fic, the gang kills a dragon and the couple celebrates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8322151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olliolli_oxenfree/pseuds/olliolli_oxenfree
Summary: Day two of Iron Bull x Inquisitor Appreciation Week:"...demons, dragons, the bigger the better"Kendra would like to apologize to both Solas and her legs.





	

“You are...certain about this, Inquisitor?”

“Absolutely.” Kendra set the final rig of the lure in place. Cassandra gave her a skeptical look as she stood to survey their work. “Shame we can’t tell _when_ the dragon’s going to get here.”

“It may be a few hours,” Cassandra nodded to least crumbled of the ruins. “We should rest for...now.” A shriek echoed down from the sky. Kendra tracked the sound, and her heart dropped she spotted the dragon.

Oh.

_Oh._

Oh, she had _so many_ regrets.

Bull gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“Boss.”

“Mm?”

“You’re the _best_.”

“Nn.”

Cassandra and Bull both rushed forward. A part of her thought that maybe, just maybe, she should be up there with them, already invisible and ready to use Bull’s bulk as a place to spring her first attack. The rest of her was rooted firmly to the ground. At least that one small part of her had managed to grab a vial.

Why did she try to lure a High Dragon?

_Who_ tried to lure a High Dragon?

“Solas?”

“Yes, Inquisitor?” Ah, the solidarity in knowing someone carried the same apprehension she did.

“I am _so_ sorry.”

Then the dragon landed, and her fingers shattered glass.

Once in the thick of it, the fight was _amazing_. She learned soon into it that the best way for her to cause damage was to stay beneath it, attacking the legs. The scales there were small, but tough, and it took all her strength to get between them with a knife.

And really, who attacked a High Dragon with a _knife_?

Movement behind her. She jumped to the side and a clawed foot made the air where she had stood whistle. Bad idea to stay in one place. Again she leapt. Forward, scoring down the pads of the dragon’s foot. The great wings flapped overhead. The body above her contorted, was gone, and landed. Kendra grabbed another vial, smoke billowing around her to give enough cover to dash for it again.

The ground still shook from the impact. Not unlike...unlike…

Well, it had worked in Haven.

Stopping dead in her tracks she tossed a knife so both were held in her right hand. The dragon twisted its neck—it saw her, _shit_ —and reared back with fire in its jaws. She opened the rift above its shoulders.

Kendra ran into the shadow of the dragon. The Mark flared, keeping her tethered to her side of the Veil. Weapons in hand, she plunged both in a quick one-two succession to the leg already gashed open. She pivoted and repeated the attack on the other back leg. A blast of cold left frost on the seams of her coat. The dragon stumbled, fell, and the Mark burned as the rift collapsed.

She grunted, grabbed her forearm before she realized that meant dropping her knives.

_Son of a whore_ —dragon!

It was already dead. Blood coated the blade of Bull’s axe as he pulled it from the beast’s neck. Damn. Just lost that bet.

Good to know the rifts she opened closed on their own, though.

“Inquisitor!” Cassandra spun her by the shoulder— _use the poisoned ones at your hip left hand is free gauntlet on the arm aim for her eyes why weren’t you paying_ attention—but instead of the blazing fury she expected, Cassandra’s expression was full of concern. “Are you alright?”

“...Fine.” Her voice was small. They did just take down a dragon. She could pass it off as that.

“May I see the Mark?”

Solas, too, had approached without her notice. Kendra removed her glove and held out her hand for inspection. Yes, good. Maybe he could make something of it.

“Have you performed such a feat before?”

“In Haven. After Corypheus.” She related the tale quickly. Solas ran two fingers down her palm with a contemplative hum.

Cassandra leaned closer to watch. “What does it mean, Solas?”

“Dagna said it was a key…” Kendra shrugged. “Keys open things.”

“And lock them. Though, I doubt this rift closing was of your own volition. Could you feel its pull on you, while you were in range?”

She took a deep breath, memories of the fight dropping into place. The rift had tugged at the dragon, slowing its movements even as it clawed the ground to steady itself against the pull. It tugged at her, as well. Tried to pull apart flesh and bone and leave only the spirit to be wrenched into the Fade. Without the Mark to anchor her, she doubted she could have resisted.

“Sorry. Was a bit too focused on the dragon.”

“I see.” Solas returned her hand. “Well, if you remember.”

“New tricks are good and all,” Bull leaned on the handle of his axe and pointed at the carcas with his thumb. “But what do we do with the _ataashi_?”

Right. _Dragon_.

“Cut her stomach open,” Cassandra turned to the body. “Dragons usually swallow whatever they fancy. It’s likely we’ll find usable armor in there, as well as gold enough to justify coming to the Approach.”

“Let’s do it.”

Dear Maker, dragon intestines _stank_. Could she _harvest_ that somehow? Make a gas to incapacitate enemy soldiers? Not likely. Harvesting alone would be more trouble than it was worth, even if she had a steady supply of dead dragons. She doubted her ability to grow immune to it. The Red Templars probably were, knowing her luck. Bastards.

Absolutely worth it, though. Cassandra was speaking of utilizing Inquisition forces to collect the bones and hide when Kendra pulled out a dagger. “You are _beautiful_.” Dual-bladed and perfectly balanced, the grip hardly any worse for wear despite being part of the contents of a dragon’s stomach. She set the long edge against her glove and pulled. The strands of fabric unraveled at the slightest touch. She couldn’t _wait_ to sharpen it.

They decided it was best to just leave the dragon for the time being—not like anyone was around to loot it—and let the scouts do the work necessary for getting the usable parts of the carcass to Skyhold.

“We should inform Frederic as well.”

“Wonder if he’d come work for us…” Cassandra shot her an incredulous look. “No, really! We’ve got bones and scales now, Maker knows what _half_ of that is worth. Dagna can work with anything you give her, but there’s bound to be _someone_ out there willing to _pay_ to use some of these. We already know there’s another High Dragon in the Hinterlands.” The man had hardly stopped being useful.

“I...see.”

“Inquisitor. I do believe you owe me.”

Damn him.

Kendra placed two silvers in Solas’ hand. Cassandra arched her brow. “Lost a bet,” Kendra explained with a shrug. “Said you were gonna land the killing blow.”

“That hurts, boss.”

“Oh, please,” Kendra waved her arm. “I gave you a _hand_ -icap.”

Cassandra strode away. “Don’t be like that, Seeker!” Bull went after her. “She _hand_ -ed me that victory!”

Solas interrupted Kendra’s laughter. “It has grown. The Mark.” He met her startled gaze steadily. “After the battle, you grabbed your arm. Until now, you’ve held your wrist whenever it pained you.”

Oh. Oh, _shit_.

“It’s _growing_?”

“Spreading might be the better term. The size of the Mark remains the same, but its effects now reach further and you have power enough to open rifts. Use it as you will, but be mindful.”

Yeah.

"Thanks, Solas."

* * *

Kendra brushed down the horse she used out in the field. It was a gift, of sorts, from the Avaar they had sent north. Nothing compared to her mare back at home. Pity she couldn’t be sent to Skyhold—

Why _hadn’t_ she sent for Cloud Dancer to be brought to Skyhold?

Footsteps crunched on the ground by the stables’ entrance. Blackwall, back from the tavern. “There you are. Bull was looking for you.”

Not like him to not just come _find_ her.

“Was he?”

“Celebratory drinks, by the look of it.”

“Thanks, Blackwall.”

The sound of chisel hitting wood soon filled the barn, soft and soothing in the dusk. She finished with the horse, detangling both its tail and mane and arranging a quilt over its back before blowing out the lantern. “Good night.”

“Inquisitor.”

She was still uncertain which way she’d go as she crossed the courtyard. She had been away for a few weeks, they’d only just gotten back from the Western Approach that afternoon. Letters she’d left were composing themselves as she walked. A response for the Duke, well wishes for birthday celebrations in the family, letting Darrell know she wanted her horse...and he was welcome to visit, as well…

She went to the tavern.

Bull was easy to spot. Kendra wove her way through the crowd. Busy, even for the hour. Maryden had found a new song. “Good luck,” Krem cautioned as she walked past.

“What—?”

“ _There_ she is!” The breath was knocked out of her as Bull looped an arm around her waist dropped her next to him on the bench. “Here, drink this.”

The fumes alone burned her throat. “What _is_ that?”

“ _Maraas-lok_.”

“ _What?_ ”

He pushed the cup closer. “ _Drink_.”

Oh sweet merciful Andraste what sin had she committed to deserve this punishment?

Bull laughed over her hacking cough.

“ _Maker_ , Bull, why am I _drinking_ this?”

“We just killed a _High Dragon_ , boss. We’re _celebrating_.”

“Was it that good for you?” She meant it to come out a joke, but a second swallow and subsequent choking turned it into an accusation. His response was in Qunlat. He’d said it before, when they were fighting the dragon. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the language on the battlefield, but she hadn’t heard that particular phrase. “What’s that, now?”

Masturbation. It meant he was going to masturbate to a _fucking dragon_.

“It was shooting _fire_ at us when you shouted that, Bull.”

The look in his eye was dreamy. “Yeah.” There wasn’t much she could do but drink to that.

It did _not_ go down any easier.

“So,” she ventured, circling the rim of her cup to collect a few drops on a finger. “Don’t suppose you’d be interested in doing that again, should the opportunity present itself?” She placed the finger in her mouth to see if smaller sips would make it better.

Her tongue shriveled.

Bull roared with laughter at the expression on her face. “Shit, yeah! To fighting dragons!”

“To the worst thing I’ve ever tasted!”

They continued drinking. There was more talk of dragons, speculations if dragon blood hadn’t somehow been added to Qunari stock, a complement for her tits, and a few more words in Qunlat she didn’t ask to be translated. Maryden stepped down to leave at last call and most the patrons followed her. Wondering if she should be concerned about the amount of stairs it took to reach her chambers, Kendra stood to go.

Her legs gave out.

“Come on.” Bull pulled her into something resembling a standing position, and helped her to the back of the bar. She needed to be carried up the stairs.

Kendra was never one to enjoy the story trope where a character needed time in the morning to remember earth-shattering events from the previous day. Even if she didn’t remember _how_ she got the Mark, she remembered everything up to it. Bidding farewell to her cousins and nephew as they donned their Templar regalia, admiring the statuary of the temple, and then…

A voice...maybe? _Something_ to draw her attention to whatever it was they’d witnessed during the first attempt to seal the Breach. She remembered that, too, down to the feeling of the Mark drawing away her strength before she’d fainted. Remembered it when an elf—had she _seen_ that elf since?—had been shocked to find her awake.

When she woke sprawled half on Bull and half on his bed, she wasn’t confused. Sore, from the way her body had contorted in the night as though there were a knife under Bull’s shoulder the same as her pillow, but not confused. She was still clothed down to her boots. Her fingers hadn’t been nimble enough to take them off without poisoning herself five different times and she certainly wasn’t about to walk him through it.

More concerning was the fact she’d broken one of her rules. She didn’t sleep with the people she fucked. Nothing against Bull, or anyone really, she just didn’t sleep well with others. Besides, she _liked_ the people she fucked. Most of the time. Last thing she wanted to do was interpret something wrong while half asleep and wind up stabbing their kidney for the crime of finding a more comfortable position.

She burrowed closer to Bull’s side with a groan, waiting for the headache.

It didn’t come.

Kendra opened an eye. Bright. Mid-morning. Still no migraine. Mindful of the fact her arm was half asleep, she pulled it out from under Bull to prop herself up and look down at him. Already awake. Ass.

“I should have the world’s _biggest_ hangover right now.”

The grin he gave was far too wide for the time of day. “Told you. _Maraas-lok_.”


End file.
